Hands of Fate
by YanksLuver
Summary: ***CHAPTER 2 NOW UP***Sydney and Vaughn find themselves spending Valentine's Day "together" in a most unconventional way.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Hands of Fate  
  
Author: Steph (ILUVNYYANK@aol.com)  
  
Category: Romance/Humor/Bit of romantic drama  
  
Pairings: Sydney/Vaughn  
  
POV: Alternates between Sydney POV and Vaughn POV  
  
Summary: Sydney and Vaughn find themselves spending Valentine's Day "together" in a most unconventional way.  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Archive: Sure, just let me know where.  
  
Spoilers: Nope.  
  
Disclaimer: Alias and its characters do not belong tome. I do this out of a love for the show and no infringement is intended.  
  
Note: Part 2 is written and being edited. It will be posted sometime in the next couple of days. Hope you enjoy it and please let me know what you thought! ~Steph  
  
* * * Hands of Fate: Part 1/2* * *  
  
~Sydney's POV~  
  
"Francie," I whine, "I'm not going out to dinner with you and Charlie tonight."  
  
Francie shakes her head at me in a scolding manner, "If you think I am going to leave you here all alone on Valentine's Day, Syd, then you're crazy."  
  
I smile, "It's very sweet of you to want to include me, but the last thing I want to be is a third wheel on Valentine's Day of all days."  
  
"Syd, Charlie and I don't mind. Don't even think of it like it's Valentine's Day. Pretend that it's any other day of the year and the three of us are just sharing a nice dinner together."  
  
"And I should just ignore all of those couples who will be surrounding us, looking oh-so-in-love and drooling over each other?"  
  
"We'll buy you blinders. You know, like racing horses wear."  
  
I chuckle, "Oh, so now I'm a horse."  
  
Francie gently swats my arm, "You know what I mean!"  
  
My laughter subsides and my tone turns serious. "I really do appreciate the offer, Francie, but it would just be too hard for me. This is my first Valentine's Day without Danny and...I guess I'd just rather be by myself."  
  
"Sydney-..." Francie begins, her tone soft and comforting.  
  
I force a smile, "No, really, I'll be fine. I have a bottle of wine, a carton of ice cream and a stack of Brad Pitt movies that are calling my name. Just go enjoy yourself."  
  
Francie eyes me thoughtfully. "You're sure?"  
  
I nod, "Yeah, I'll be fine."  
  
Francie sighs and then nods in defeat. "Okay, fine. But promise me you won't watch any of those depressing romantic comedies."  
  
I smile, "I promise."  
  
"I'm serious, Syd. No 'Sleepless in Seattle', 'Pretty Woman' or 'Bridget Jones' Diary'. They'll only make you sad. Stick to Brad's movies. 'Seven', 'Fight Club'. Anything with blood and Brad looking hot will do."  
  
I laugh, as I gently push my friend towards her bedroom, "Come on, you have to get ready. Charlie won't wait forever."  
  
I sigh, as I turn back around and look at the lonely living room that will be my date tonight.  
  
I miss Danny, but there's something more gnawing at me.  
  
There's a man out there who makes my heart race and stirs up emotions in me I thought I'd never feel again...Stirs up new, exciting emotions.  
  
There's a man out there I can't have.  
  
* * * *  
  
~Vaughn's POV~  
  
I hate Valentine's Day.  
  
I really do. I think it is a stupid holiday that was invented by florists, candy makers and jewelers for the sole purpose of making money.  
  
There shouldn't be one day set aside to show how much you love someone. If you love that person, then everyday should be Valentine's Day.  
  
Great. Now I sound like a Hallmark Card. I went from Valentine's Day rebel to mushy, annoying guy in a whole two seconds.  
  
I remember last Valentine's Day with Alice. I made a reservation at her favorite French restaurant.  
  
I promised I'd meet her there. But, as usual, I got caught up at work.  
  
By the time I got there, she was gone.  
  
I think that was the beginning of the end for us. Or maybe it ended before it ever really began.  
  
I never loved Alice, no matter how much I try to convince myself I did.  
  
If I did, then everyday would have felt like Valentine's Day. As it is, with Alice, Valentine's Day didn't even feel like Valentine's Day.  
  
But with Sydney...It's different.  
  
With Sydney-...  
  
My thoughts are interrupted by Weiss walking into my office and coming to stand in front of my desk.  
  
"It's 7:00 pm on Valentine's Day, man. What are you still doing here?"  
  
I look up at him. "I could ask the same of you."  
  
He shrugs, "My girlfriend had to work."  
  
I laugh, "Oh, so now it only takes one date to be declared your girlfriend. It used to be two. It's nice to know you set such high standards."  
  
Weiss grins, "She's a stripper, Vaughn. What would you do?"  
  
I smile and shake my head. "What's her name again? Basil? Thyme?"  
  
"Ginger," Weiss replies, his present contempt for me barely concealed by his tone.  
  
I offer him a grin, "Tell her to say hi to the Professor and Maryanne for me, will ya?"  
  
Weiss rolls his eyes, "Yeah, I'm sure she's never heard that one before."  
  
I shrug, fairly pleased with my lame joke.  
  
"Come on, let's go get a drink at O'Rileys."  
  
I shake my head, "No, thanks, I'll pass. I'd rather not try to forget that I am all alone on Valentine's Day by getting stinkin' drunk and then having you throw up on me."  
  
"So you have better plans?"  
  
I nod, "As a matter of fact, I do."  
  
He narrows his eyes at me. "Let me guess. Michael Vaughn has a fun-filled night ahead of him, complete with sitting in his boxers and ripped Kings t-shirt he insists is not a rag-in-waiting, while eating pizza, drinking beer, and watching 'A Wedding Story' on TLC."  
  
I force my lips not to curl into a smile. "I don't watch 'A Wedding Story."  
  
"Who are you trying to kid? Every time you get like this, you watch that damn show. I saw you once, remember? You cried over that couple whose house burnt down and lifesavings was stolen."  
  
"They overcame incredible obstacles to be together," I reply absentmindedly.  
  
Weiss groans, "Come on, man. Could you be anymore predictable? Mr. Spontaneity you're not."  
  
"I'll have you know I plan on eating Chinese food, not pizza tonight. And I also plan on eating my fortune cookie *before* I eat the entrees."  
  
Weiss pretends to be impressed, "Really?...While you're at it, why don't you throw caution to the wind and not recycle those beers cans you drink tonight."  
  
I fix him with a glare. "Shut up."  
  
He raises his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, go drown your sorrows In Chinese food and female television programs. If you're lucky, maybe it'll take your mind off Sydney for half-a-second."  
  
I open my mouth to respond, but he's gone before I can come up with a halfway decent rebuttal.  
  
How did he know?  
  
How could he not know?  
  
I groan, as I place a hand to the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut.  
  
I hate Valentine's Day.  
  
* * * *  
  
~Sydney's POV~  
  
An hour and a half later, I am sitting on the couch in my sweats, eating Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream right out of the carton.  
  
I am watching 'Runaway Bride'.  
  
I know, I know. Why do I insist on torturing myself?  
  
If Francie knew, she would admonish me to no end. But I couldn't help myself. I was just flipping through the channels when I came across it.  
  
And now I sit here, tears falling into my ice cream as I watch Julia Roberts and Richard Gere declare their love for each other.  
  
I hate Julia Roberts.  
  
Okay, let me amend that. I love Julia Roberts. I think she's a wonderful actress. She was amazing in 'Erin Brockovich'.  
  
I just hate that she always gets the guy (except for that one time in 'My Best Friend's Wedding').  
  
It's just so unrealistic. You can't always get what you want.  
  
I've learned that the hard way.  
  
I knew I should have watched 'Fight Club' instead.  
  
I look disdainfully at my ice cream, which is now getting watery from my tears, and sneer at it.  
  
I just sneered at ice cream. Could I be any more pathetic?  
  
In a moment of defiance, I drop my spoon into the carton and roughly wipe the tears off of my cheeks with the back of my hand.  
  
I will not be *that* girl.  
  
You know what I'm talking about. The girl who sits home all alone, feeling sorry for herself and hoping that the cold from the ice cream will somehow numb the pain.  
  
I refuse to be *that* girl.  
  
I am better than that.  
  
I am stronger than that.  
  
Damn it, I kick ass for a living!  
  
I quickly get up off the couch, practically throwing the carton onto the coffee table and then picking up the remote to click off the television with a vengeance.  
  
I will not be *that* girl.  
  
I am going out tonight. I am getting all dressed up and I am going out to dinner alone.  
  
That's right. Alone.  
  
I don't need a man to feel secure in who I am. I am an independent, strong woman.  
  
Surely, I can handle eating all by myself in a restaurant on Valentine's Day.  
  
Can't I?  
  
* * * *  
  
~Vaughn's POV~  
  
An hour and a half later, I am sitting on my couch in my boxers and comfortable, lived-in Kings t-shirt, eating Chinese food, drinking beer and watching 'A Wedding Story' on TLC.  
  
Okay, so maybe I am a tad predictable. And sad.  
  
Damn Weiss.  
  
I really tried not to watch 'A Wedding Story', but I couldn't help myself. It was a special Valentine's Day edition.  
  
This couple had met during a terrible circumstances and it had taken them years to find their way to each other.  
  
Hm. Nope, doesn't remind me of anything at all.  
  
I wonder what Sydney's doing right now?  
  
Damn it! I promised myself I wouldn't think of her tonight.  
  
It's just so hard not to when I look at this bride in her gown waiting to get married. I just keep picturing how beautiful Sydney would look on her wedding day.  
  
Okay, so I'm picturing how beautiful Sydney would look on *our* wedding day.  
  
I shake my head in disgust and glare at my Lo Mein.  
  
I just glared at Lo Mein. Could I be any more pathetic?  
  
I drop my fork into the carton and ply a piece of carrot off of my chin.  
  
I will not be *that* guy.  
  
You know what I'm talking about. The guy who sits home all alone feeling sorry for himself, hoping that the alcohol will somehow make the loneliness vanish.  
  
I refuse to be *that* guy.  
  
I am better than that.  
  
I am stronger than that.  
  
Damn it, I handle a girl who kicks ass for a living!  
  
I practically jump off the couch, dropping the carton onto the coffee table and brandishing the remote like a sword before clicking off the television.  
  
I will not be *that* guy.  
  
I am going out tonight. I am putting on some nice clothes and I am going out to dinner alone.  
  
That's right. Alone.  
  
I don't need a woman to prove my manhood. I am a powerful, strong man.  
  
Surely, I can handle eating all by myself in a restaurant on Valentine's Day.  
  
Can't I?  
  
* * * *  
  
~Sydney's POV~  
  
I slowly enter the restaurant, my eyes scanning the sea of faces. I smartly chose a very informal restaurant.  
  
It's actually a restaurant/karaoke bar. I figured it would be easier this way. The place is still crawling with couples, but at least they aren't looking deeply into each other's eyes and caressing their hands across the table, while they sip on glasses of champagne.  
  
No. Here, they engage in brief make-out sessions and hands rub thighs under the table, while chugging mugs of beer in between.  
  
I don't really know why I thought that would be better, but somehow it is.  
  
Maybe it's because none of the couples look like they'll make it to the end of the year and that's comforting to me.  
  
I find a table close to the back and sit down. A waitress in her mid-fifties with a bad blond dye job comes to my table and offers me a less-than-enthusiastic greeting.  
  
"Hi, I'm Margie and I'll be your server tonight. Would you like to order a drink while you wait for your dinner companion?"  
  
I resist the urge to tell 'Margie' where she can stick her close-minded assumption.  
  
I simply smile and reply as sweetly as possible, "Actually, I'll be dining alone tonight."  
  
Her penciled-in eyebrows arch in surprise. She responds slowly, "Okay...um...Would you like to order a drink now then?"  
  
"Yes, a beer, please."  
  
She nods and then walks away. I'm not usually a beer drinker, I prefer wine, but I figure if I'm looking to be a little bold today then I might as well change that too.  
  
I pick up the menu and begin to peruse it. However, my attention is soon pulled away by a voice to my right. I look up and into the face of a very handsome man around my age.  
  
He's got short, curly brown hair and a sparkling smile. I return the smile.  
  
Hm...maybe something good will come out of this. I bet he could take my thoughts off my situation and Vaughn for a little bit.  
  
"Hi," I say.  
  
His smile widens, "Hi." Oh, good sign. He continues on, "Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you needed this other chair?"  
  
My face falls and I briefly consider kicking him in the gut for asking such a question. I also consider paying the first guy I see on the street to pretend to be my date, just so I won't give this guy the satisfaction of knowing I don't need that chair.  
  
Unfortunately, neither one of those options seems plausible.  
  
I force a smile, "No, go ahead and take it."  
  
His smile widens even more. Geez, how many teeth does this guy have?  
  
"Thanks," he replies, before walking away with my chair and leaving me with just the one I'm sitting in.  
  
Damn. Now I can't even pretend I'm waiting for my date. At least if I got stood up, I could get some pity stares.  
  
Listen to me. I actually want pity stares, rather than just face up to the fact that I came here alone.  
  
Okay, maybe I can't do this.  
  
* * * *  
  
~Vaughn's POV~  
  
I enter the restaurant/karaoke bar, my gaze jumping from couple to couple. My lips turn downward.  
  
I thought this would be better than one of those fancy-schmancy restaurants where the couples seem to put on a show for those surrounding them.  
  
I think I was wrong, as I look at all of these young couples practically glued to each other.  
  
I suddenly feel like the over-the-hill, been-in-college-for-eight-years RA who just walked in on a dorm floor party.  
  
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.  
  
Against my protesting brain, I find a table and sit down.  
  
A waitress with far too much makeup on and a bad perm approaches my table. She speaks like she'd rather be anywhere else on earth at the moment.  
  
"Hi, I'm Margie, I'll be your server tonight. Would you like to order a drink while you wait for your dinner companion?"  
  
I resist the urge to yank her hair so hard it loses it curl for making such an assumption.  
  
I plaster on a smile, "Actually, I'll be dining alone tonight."  
  
She arches her brow and shakes her head. She mutters, "What's going on tonight?"  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
"Nothing. Would you like to order a drink then?"  
  
I nod, "Yes...Can I have a white wine?"  
  
She arches her brow at me again. Damn judgmental waitress.  
  
What? A man can't eat alone and order wine for himself?  
  
I'm trying to be different today. Bold. Unpredictable. Mr. Spontaneity.  
  
A beer is what the old Michael Vaughn would order. The new one wants a damn white wine.  
  
She stops looking at me like I have two heads and walks away.  
  
I pick up the menu and begin to scan it. However, my attention is soon pulled away by a female voice to my left.  
  
I look up and into the face of a pretty woman, a bit younger than me.  
  
She has long, blonde hair and bright blue eyes.  
  
Hm. Maybe this won't be so bad after all. I bet she could take my mind off Sydney for a little bit.  
  
"Hi," I say, flashing her what I hope to be a debonair grin.  
  
She smiles widely, "Hi." I've still got it. She goes on, "Sorry to bother you, but would you mind switching tables with us? My boyfriend doesn't like to be so close to the karaoke stage."  
  
My smile fades and I have to suppress my urge to tell her where her wussy boyfriend can go. I briefly consider making up an excuse, like I have sensitive eardrums or something, just so I won't have to give into her.  
  
Unfortunately, neither one of those options seems reasonable.  
  
I plaster a smile on my face and get up, "No, of course not."  
  
Her smile grows, "Thanks."  
  
I follow her to her table and plop down into the chair.  
  
Great. Now I can be alone and right in front of a bunch of tone-deaf amateurs, who will undoubtedly be judging me.  
  
Okay, maybe I can't do this.  
  
* * * *  
  
~Sydney's POV~  
  
I take a small sip of my beer and force it down. I really don't care for beer.  
  
I sigh, as my eyes again scan the young couples in the room. I am seriously starting to feel old. I have to fight the urge not to throw my beer at this couple next to me, who have practically swallowed each other's heads.  
  
Seriously, I think the guy can actually unhinge his jaw, like a snake or something.  
  
I groan, my gaze continuing around the room.  
  
Couple. Couple. Couple. Couple. Vaughn. Couple. Cou-...  
  
Whoa. Wait a minute. Back it up. Rewind.  
  
Vaughn?  
  
What the hell is he doing here?  
  
And why is he alone?  
  
He doesn't see me. He's too busy studying his menu. Or pretending to study his menu, as the case seems to be.  
  
There's like six items on the menu. It only take about two minutes to read it and decide what you want.  
  
Trust me, I timed it.  
  
And then I pretended to study the menu.  
  
My gaze remains focused on him. Damn, he looks good.  
  
He's wearing a pair of nice khakis and a dark blue button down shirt that's open a couple of buttons. His hair's styled a bit more than usual and I find my fingers twitching with the urge to run them through it.  
  
He looks so comfortable in those clothes.  
  
Don't get me wrong. I love Work Vaughn. I love Jogging Vaughn.  
  
I mean, I don't love them...him. I love how they...he looks...when-...  
  
Oh, you know what I mean!  
  
But tonight he looks different. Amazing, really.  
  
He looks like he should be walking along the beach on some tropical island.  
  
And I should be walking right next to him, hand in hand.  
  
Okay, I took that hypothetical scenario a bit too far.  
  
What is he doing here?  
  
This is not good.  
  
* * * *  
  
~Vaughn's POV~  
  
I've been pretending to read my menu for fifteen minutes now, which is really quite ridiculous because there are only six items on it.  
  
I'm just not exactly sure what I'm supposed to do after I put the menu down.  
  
I could drink my white wine, if I didn't think it tasted like crap.  
  
I could play with my cocktail napkin, if I were five and had some crayons.  
  
I could read the carvings in the old, dark wood of my table, if I hadn't already done that and decided to stop after the sixth message with 'your mama' in it.  
  
I guess I could people-watch. Sure, I'll feel stupid, but no more so than I did reading my menu for fifteen minutes.  
  
Plus, I've always been good at people-watching. I'm quite the observer. It comes in handy as a CIA agent.  
  
I look over at the couple to my left and roll my eyes. The woman hasn't shut up since I sat down and her date seems to have fallen into a coma.  
  
Can you be in a coma and still have your eyes open? Judging by this guy, I'd have to say yes.  
  
My eyes continue to scan the crowd of young couples 'in love.' And by 'in love' I mean 'unable to keep their hands off each other'.  
  
Disgusting couple. Boring couple. Mushy couple. Sydney. Kinky coup-...  
  
Whoa. Not so fast. Reverse.  
  
Sydney?  
  
What the hell is she doing here?  
  
And why is she alone?  
  
She doesn't see me. She's too busy looking into her beer, like there's something extremely fascinating floating at the bottom of it. Or maybe she's pretending to look into her beer, because, let's face it, there's nothing much to see.  
  
My eyes remain focused on her. Damn, she looks good.  
  
She's wearing a short, bright red silk dress with spaghetti straps. I can see her long, shapely legs crossed under the table and I have to swallow hard.  
  
Her hair is down and fuller than usual. It's got a bit of a bounce to it that I am not used to seeing on her.  
  
She looks absolutely beautiful tonight. So natural.  
  
Don't get me wrong. I love Casual Sydney. I love Kick-Ass-Disguised Sydney.  
  
Not love as in *love* But love as in...you know...love as in...  
  
Well, it really doesn't matter.  
  
Tonight, she just looks different. Amazing, actually.  
  
She looks like she should be dancing the tango at some Latin club.  
  
And I should be her partner, pulling her close to me and inhaling the scent that is uniquely hers.  
  
Okay, took that hypothetical scenario a bit too far.  
  
What is she doing here?  
  
This is not good.  
  
* * * *  
  
~Sydney's POV~  
  
He noticed me. He's staring at me.  
  
I'm pretending to find my beer incredibly interesting right now.  
  
I wish the beer companies put little prizes at the bottom of these things. Then I wouldn't look so stupid. I'd actually have a purpose. They could take a cue from the cereal companies.  
  
I'm really trying not to look up and meet his eyes.  
  
What would be the point? It's not like I could say, 'hey, come on over here and we can talk'.  
  
Which is exactly what I'd like to do. But, no, doing that would be against protocol, put our jobs and lives at risk...blah, blah, blah.  
  
I am really trying not to meet his eyes, but it is so hard. He's seven tables away, a fair distance actually, and I still feel like his piercing gaze could burn holes into my forehead.  
  
I can't suppress the urge to connect with those amazing green eyes of his and abruptly lift my head up.  
  
My gaze meets his and I could swear that there's a flicker in his eyes when it does.  
  
A flicker of some emotion. Anger? Happiness? Desire?  
  
I couldn't tell, but I know it was there.  
  
To my surprise, his lips curl into a heart-stopping smile.  
  
I can't help but return it.  
  
He shrugs his shoulders in a 'what are the odds?' manner and I shake my head.  
  
What are the odds?  
  
Or maybe this is fate at work.  
  
* * * *  
  
~Vaughn's POV~  
  
She finally met my gaze and when she did, I noticed she wasn't surprised to see me. She must have noticed me first.  
  
When our eyes met, I could have sworn I saw a spark of something in her eyes.  
  
What was it? Annoyance? Joy? Longing?  
  
I couldn't tell, but I know it was there.  
  
I can't stop myself from flashing her a smile.  
  
She has the amazing ability to pull a smile out of me when I have absolutely no intention of giving into that urge.  
  
To my surprise, she returns the smile with one that makes my palms sweaty and causes me to ponder if my deodorant is also an anti-perspirant.  
  
I shrug, hoping to convey 'what are the odds?' to her and she shakes her head.  
  
What are the odds?  
  
Or maybe a force greater than probability is at work here.  
  
* * * * * *  
  
TBC...Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it and please let me know what you thought! ~Steph 


	2. Chapter 2

Note: Okay, I have to warn you all. The way you expect this story to go is probably not the way it will go. Expect the unexpected. I wanted this story to be different from many of the Sydney/Vaughn fanfics that I've read and written. This story started with a simple idea that I wanted to see if I could carry all the way through. It was a goal and I actually did it. If you don't know what that is yet, you'll probably realize it in this chapter. Anyway, just wanted to let you all know just in case you have certain expectations. Thanks for the great feedback and hope you enjoy!~Steph  
  
* * * Hands of Fate 2/2 * * *  
  
~Sydney's POV~  
  
I want to go over there. I so badly want to go over there.  
  
But I can't. I know I can't and I hate that.  
  
I'd give just about anything to sit across from him and engage in a normal conversation.  
  
I'd give anything to have a relaxing dinner with him.  
  
I'd give anything for the chance to have our hands accidentally brush against each other as we both reach for something.  
  
Such a simple, impossible thing.  
  
I watch him as he raises his glass up and in my direction.  
  
I smile and lift my mug up and do the same.  
  
Well, I guess if we can't physically share a meal, we can separately share one.  
  
* * * *  
  
~Vaughn's POV~  
  
It takes all my strength not to go over there.  
  
My left hand is actually gripping the edge of my seat in order to stop me from doing what I know I cannot do, but desperately want to anyway.  
  
I briefly consider throwing caution to the wind and walking over to her. What are the chances that Sloane put someone on her on Valentine's Day anyway?  
  
But I can hear Devlin, Haladaki, and Barnett's voices echoing in my ears and I know I can't take that kind of risk.  
  
What I would give to stare at her from across a table and smile at every word that comes out of her mouth.  
  
What I would give to sit and talk about nothing and everything.  
  
What I would give for the chance to have her foot accidentally brush up against my leg under the table.  
  
Instead, I sigh and do the next best thing. I raise my glass up and in her direction.  
  
She smiles and does the same thing.  
  
Well, I guess this will have to do.  
  
* * * *  
  
~Sydney's POV~  
  
I have to break eye contact with Vaughn long enough to acknowledge Margie, who has appeared at my side.  
  
She chews on the end of her pen and asks disinterestedly, "What would you like to have this evening?"  
  
I can't help myself and involuntarily look at Vaughn. He's what I'd like to have this evening.  
  
She clears her throat and I look up at her. I'm just about to speak, when she says, "He's cute. You should go over there."  
  
I raise my eyebrows up in surprise. Looks who's my new best friend.  
  
I smile and shake my head, "Nah, he's not really my type."  
  
She scoffs at me. Margie scoffs at me.  
  
"What, you don't like the drop dead gorgeous type? No wonder you're all alone on Valentine's Day."  
  
My mouth drops open slightly. I stammer, "I...I...don't really think that's any of your business."  
  
"Look, honey, I might just be a waitress, but I got eyes. You've been looking at him, he's been looking at you. Stop playing around and go over there already."  
  
Who is she? A Yenta? Chuck Woolery?  
  
A slight blush creeps into my cheeks, "You don't understand."  
  
"What's there to understand? This ain't brain surgery, sweetie. You like him, he likes you. Go for it."  
  
If only it were that easy.  
  
I shake my head. "There are circumstances that won't allow me to do that." She looks at me quizzically for a moment and then I say softly, "Um, I would like the Penne ala Vodka, please. Thank you."  
  
She sighs, shakes her head and takes my menu.  
  
Before she walks away I remember that I wanted to ask about a substitution. "Uh, Margie? Could I possibly have Rotini instead of Penne for my meal?"  
  
She chews on her bottom lip and says dryly, "It's called *Penne* ala Vodka for a reason, you know." I give her my most charming smile and she relents. "Fine."  
  
She then walks always and heads in Vaughn's direction.  
  
Great. Just great.  
  
You know Dr. Ruth isn't going to be able to keep her mouth shut.  
  
* * * *  
  
~Vaughn's POV~  
  
Well, Margie and Sydney certainly seem chummy.  
  
Why does Margie keep looking over at me?  
  
And now Sydney's blushing.  
  
Hm, I wonder what's going on with them.  
  
Hooray, Margie's heading over here.  
  
She offers me a thoroughly bored expression before asking, "What would you like to have this evening?"  
  
And I can't help it. I look over at Sydney. She's what I'd like to have this evening.  
  
I hear Margie groan. Did Margie just groan at me?  
  
I turn my eyes back to her and I'm just about to speak when she beats me to it, "Not you too."  
  
My eyes grow large. "Um, what?"  
  
"You got the hots for that girl over there, right?"  
  
My mouth drops open slightly. "Uh..."  
  
"But the circumstances or some such crap are standing in your way, right?"  
  
I think I'm drooling. Am I drooling? "Well..."  
  
"Look, darlin', I've been married four times and each time I learned something."  
  
Okay, interesting tidbit.  
  
To my chagrin, she goes on, while shaking her pen at me, "I learned that you can't let stuff stand in the way of what you want. If you want somebody, tell them. If you love them, tell them. All four of my husbands died without me ever telling them I loved them."  
  
More than I ever cared to know about Margie. Why can't she go back to bored, mad-at-the-world Margie? I liked that Margie.  
  
I swallow against the lump that has now taken up residence in my throat. "Um...Okay, thanks for sharing. But I don't really think this concerns you."  
  
She sighs in disgust, "No one wants to listen to me. They'd rather be miserable and stare at each other all night."  
  
And the light bulb finally goes on. She talked to Sydney about this, too. She obviously saw Sydney staring at me and thought she wanted to be with me.  
  
But that's ridiculous, right?  
  
Sydney would like to spend time together as friends, but not as more. Right?  
  
The Kings game invitation was offered as a way to show the freedom we would have if she left SD-6...Freedom to be friends.  
  
Nothing more...Right? Right?  
  
Great. That's all I need. It's been hard enough wanting her and knowing I can't have her when I thought that she might not return my feelings.  
  
But now that she might? Great. Just great.  
  
Margie pops her gum. "Look, sugarplum, I don't have all day. If you're not going to take my advice, then at least order."  
  
Did Margie just call me sugarplum?  
  
I ponder that for a moment, before saying, "Oh, yeah, sorry...Um, I'd like the Penne ala Vodka, please."  
  
"Hmph," she says in a triumphant tone, as she writes my order down on her pad.  
  
What the hell was that?  
  
"Something wrong?" I ask.  
  
She shakes her head, "Nope, just that you and the apple-of-your-eye over there ordered the same thing. Coincidence or two people meant to be together?"  
  
Who is this lady? She got all of that from us ordering the same thing? Now we're suddenly destined to be together?  
  
I mean, come on, there's only six things on the menu. We had a one out of six chance. Now *those* odds are pretty good.  
  
I smile and shake my head, "There's only six items on the menu. I don't think it's that unlikely."  
  
She shrugs and is about to turn away, when I remember that I wanted to ask if they could make a substitution.  
  
"Uh, excuse me, Margie. Could I have that made with Rotini, instead of Penne?"  
  
A grin takes over her brightly colored lips.  
  
"What?" I ask.  
  
She cocks her head in the direction of Sydney and raises her eyebrows.  
  
No way.  
  
She simply smiles and shakes her head as she leaves.  
  
Okay, now that was a little weird. I have to admit.  
  
* * * *  
  
~Sydney's POV~  
  
Vaughn and Margie certainly seemed to have formed quite a bond.  
  
Why is she nodding her head in my direction?  
  
Great. She probably just badgered Vaughn about me looking at him.  
  
She leaves and then he looks at me. He smiles and brings his finger up to the side of his head and moves it in a spiral motion, apparently indicating that Margie's got a screw loose.  
  
I laugh and nod my head in agreement.  
  
Or maybe she's the only one of us with her head on straight.  
  
I turn my eyes away from Vaughn, as Margie approaches me with my salad.  
  
I smile at her, as an idea suddenly hits me. I pull a pen out of my purse and quickly scribble something on my cocktail napkin.  
  
I fold it in half, hold it up to her and nod with my head towards Vaughn, "Do you think you could give this to that guy over there?"  
  
Margie rolls her eyes at me. "You gotta do this the hard way, don't ya, honey?"  
  
My cheeks turn red, as I suddenly feel like a twelve-year old who just got caught passing notes.  
  
Okay, so maybe this isn't the most mature form of communication, but it's the best I can think of at the moment.  
  
I smile, "Please?"  
  
She begrudgingly takes the note and slips into her apron.  
  
* * * *  
  
~Vaughn's POV~  
  
Here comes Margie.  
  
She plops my salad plate down in front of me with very little care and then drops a folded cocktail napkin next to it.  
  
I pick it up and look questioningly at her, "What's this?"  
  
"It's an engraved invitation to my Bat Mitzvah...How the hell should I know?"  
  
Whoa, sarcasm thy name is Margie.  
  
She points her head towards Sydney, "Your girlfriend over there gave it to me and told me to give it to you."  
  
I smile and look at the napkin with newfound interest. "Thank you."  
  
"Yeah, whatever," she replies, as she walks away from me.  
  
I slowly unfold the napkin and read what Sydney's written:  
  
~Doesn't Margie remind you of Flo from that diner sitcom, 'Alice'? I keep expecting her to say 'Kiss my grits!'~  
  
I laugh and then look up at Sydney. I nod and she smiles.  
  
I pull a pen out of my pants.  
  
Little quirk I have. Never go anywhere without a pen. I think it comes from watching all of those police/detective shows as a kid. You never know when you're going to have to use a pen to pick up a gun in order to preserve fingerprints for evidence.  
  
I quickly scribble something on the napkin below Sydney's message.  
  
I then go about eating my salad, which is surprisingly good.  
  
A few minutes later, Margie appears at my side again. "You done?"  
  
I nod and push the plate away from me. I then smile and hold the napkin up to her.  
  
She rolls her eyes at me. "Not you too."  
  
"Please?"  
  
"Who the hell do you two think I am? Your damn secretary?"  
  
I offer her a charming grin. "Come on, Margie."  
  
She sighs in defeat and tears the napkin from my grip. She then walks towards Sydney.  
  
I smile proudly and lean back in my chair.  
  
* * * *  
  
~Sydney's POV~  
  
My favorite meddling waitress is on her way back over here.  
  
"You done?"  
  
I nod and hand her my salad plate. She takes it from me and then drops the napkin on the table. "Here, that's from Romeo over there."  
  
I smile, "Thanks."  
  
I quickly unfold the napkin and read his message:  
  
~She reminds me of my Aunt Gertrude. She always wore too much makeup, had bad hair and dispensed unsolicited advice. When I was nine, she told me I'd look great with a perm. I, in all my childhood innocence, believed her and she gave me one. I couldn't step foot outside all summer without being heckled by every kid in the neighborhood. They started calling me Little Orphan Annie.~  
  
I bring a hand to my mouth to keep from bursting into a fit of giggles. My mind is suddenly filled with images of little Michael Vaughn running around with a head full of curls.  
  
I lift my eyes and meet his. He smiles and shakes his head, the pink in his cheeks a sign of embarrassment.  
  
I lower my eyes and pick up my pen. I turn the cocktail napkin over and scribble my message.  
  
A few minutes later, Margie arrives at the table with my meal.  
  
"Thank you," I say with a smile and hand her the napkin.  
  
She groans, but takes the note from me.  
  
I watch as she walks to Vaughn's table.  
  
* * *  
  
~Vaughn's POV~  
  
Margie arrives at the table with my food and sets it down in front of me. She then drops the napkin onto the table, but not before saying, "That's it now. I'm done. If you two want to play your Junior High games, then get somebody else."  
  
"But-..."  
  
"No, buts. You two are fools. I don't care what your reasons are. You're nothing but fools."  
  
With that, she turns on her heel and leaves.  
  
She's right. I'm a fool.  
  
I'm a fool for falling in love with a woman I can't have.  
  
I look at the napkin, my light-hearted attitude nearly gone.  
  
Then I read her words.  
  
And I realize why she means so much to me.  
  
She can brighten my disposition without even trying.  
  
~I can top that hair debacle. You remember my bozo hair, right? Of course, you do. How could you forget? Well, when I was fourteen, my best friend and I decided we wanted to die our hair green. We thought it would look so cool. But we didn't do it right and our hair turned this terrible pea green. I wore a hat for the next two months, but the kids at school still called me Split Pea Sydney.~  
  
I smile and lift my eyes to meet hers. She shrugs, her eyes laughing.  
  
I shake my head, as I realize this is the best date I've ever been on.  
  
It may be far from conventional, but I've never enjoyed myself so much.  
  
I am just about to write a message on the napkin and then devise a way to get Margie to help us again, when I hear the screeching sounds of a microphone.  
  
I look up at the stage and am surprised to see Margie standing up there.  
  
"Okay, listen up everybody. As you know, this is a karaoke bar. That means people get up here and sing songs. Well, usually people go up here voluntarily, but since it's Valentine's Day we've decided to break the rules. Someone can nominate you to go up on stage and sing and you have to."  
  
She stops and her eyes land on me.  
  
Oh, no. Please, no. She can't force me to sing against my will, can she?  
  
Suddenly, I'm not so sure that Margie's powers don't extend that far.  
  
She walks off the stage and comes to stand next to me.  
  
"Come on, loverboy, get up and tell that girl how you feel."  
  
I look up at her with wide eyes and shake my head, "I can't, Margie. You don't understand. I...I can't even sing."  
  
"Look, I get that you two have some weird, crazy thing going on. I get that. But this is gonna kill you if you don't get it out. So, go up there and say how you feel. This might be the only chance you ever get."  
  
Have I gone insane or did Margie just make some sense?  
  
I could tell Sydney how I feel without risking our covers. I wouldn't have to endure an uncomfortable conversation. I could just tell her and then let it be.  
  
I could get it all out in the open. I know nothing can ever come of it, but at least I won't have to live my life in constant regret.  
  
Maybe it's the white wine going to my head, but I slowly stand up and walk up on stage.  
  
This is the new Michael Vaughn. Bold. Unpredictable. Mr. Spontaneity.  
  
I quickly flip through a book before I find the song that properly conveys my feelings for her. I whisper the number to the piano player and he begins to play.  
  
I focus my eyes on Sydney and start to sing.  
  
* * * *  
  
~Sydney's POV~  
  
What is he doing?  
  
What did Margie do to him? Did she slip something into his salad dressing?  
  
My thoughts questioning Vaughn's sanity are halted when he meets my gaze.  
  
Suddenly, I can see and hear only him.  
  
His eyes are focused right on me and he's singing.  
  
He's singing in the most terrible, off-key voice I've ever come in contact with.  
  
And it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.  
  
~Look into my eyes - you will see  
  
What you mean to me  
  
Search your heart - search your soul  
  
And when you find me there you'll search no more  
  
Don't tell me it's not worth tryin' for  
  
You can't tell me it's not worth dyin' for  
  
You know it's true  
  
Everything I do - I do it for you  
  
Look into my heart - you will find  
  
There's nothin' there to hide  
  
Take me as I am - take my life  
  
I would give it all, I would sacrifice  
  
Don't tell me, it's not worth fightin' for  
  
I can't help it, there's nothin' I want more  
  
Ya know it's true  
  
Everything I do - I do it for you  
  
There's no love - like your love  
  
And no other - could give more love  
  
There's nowhere - unless you're there  
  
All the time - all the way  
  
Don't tell me, it's not worth tryin' for  
  
I can't help it, there's nothin' I want more  
  
I would fight for you - I'd lie for you  
  
Walk the wire for you - Ya I'd die for you  
  
Ya know it's true  
  
Everything I do - I do it for you~  
  
Vaughn finishes and I can feel a tear rolling down my cheek. I pay it no attention.  
  
I can't believe he did this. I can't believe he feels this way.  
  
My heart's beating so fast I think it's going to explode in my chest.  
  
I watch as he hands the microphone back to Margie and then takes his seat.  
  
His eyes don't meet mine.  
  
I can't believe I'm not allowed to pull him into my arms and kiss him...To say the same thing to him without using any words.  
  
He doesn't meet my eyes and I know that things between us have not changed.  
  
He's still the man I can't have.  
  
The only difference is that now I know I'm the woman he can't have.  
  
I'm thrown from my thoughts as Margie's gaze lands on me.  
  
Uh oh.  
  
That's my initial reaction. But, as she approaches me, I find that I want to do this.  
  
I want Vaughn to know how I feel, even if nothing can ever come of it.  
  
He needs to know.  
  
I stand up before she even reaches my table and I smile at her.  
  
She grins and nods approvingly, "Good girl."  
  
I walk to the stage and flip through the song book before finding the song that will convey all of the feelings I have for him. I whisper the song number to the piano player and then pick up the microphone.  
  
I focus on Vaughn's eyes and the world around me disappears.  
  
* * * *  
  
~Vaughn's POV~  
  
I swallow hard. I can't believe she's doing this.  
  
Is she really doing this?  
  
It must be the beer taking its toll on her.  
  
Or maybe she's just decided that she's tired of pretending. Maybe she wants a few moments of truth and this is her way of doing that.  
  
She captures my eyes with hers and I swear that my surroundings vanish.  
  
She begins to sing. Her voice is soft and pure and sweet.  
  
It's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.  
  
~Used to be that I believed in something  
  
Used to be that I believed in love  
  
It's been a long time since I've had that feeling  
  
I could love someone  
  
I could trust someone  
  
I said I'd never let nobody near my heart again, darlin'  
  
I said I'd never let nobody in  
  
But if you asked me to  
  
I just might change my mind  
  
And let you in my life forever  
  
If you asked me to  
  
I just might give my heart  
  
And stay here in your arms forever  
  
If you asked me to  
  
If you asked me to  
  
Somehow ever since I've been around you  
  
Can't go back to being on my own  
  
Can't help feeling, darling, since I've found you  
  
That I've found my home  
  
That I'm finally home  
  
I said I'd never let nobody get too close to me, darlin'  
  
I said I needed, needed to be free  
  
But if you asked me to...  
  
Ask me to, I will give my world to you, baby  
  
I need you now  
  
Ask me to and I'll do anything for you, baby  
  
If you asked me to  
  
I'd let you in my life forever  
  
If you asked me to...~  
  
Sydney slowly finishes, her eyes never leaving mine.  
  
I can't believe she feels this way. I am stunned and deliriously happy all at once.  
  
I watch as she goes to sit down and lowers her eyes.  
  
Her gaze won't meet mine and it's in that moment that I realize things between us haven't changed.  
  
The only difference is that now I know I'm the man she can't have.  
  
If I could, I'd ask her to stay with me for the rest of my life.  
  
But I can't.  
  
And now that I know exactly how she feels, it makes it so much harder to resist her.  
  
I thought this would make things better between us...easier.  
  
I was wrong.  
  
I want Sydney Bristow now more than ever.  
  
* * * *  
  
~Sydney's POV~  
  
Our eyes don't meet for the rest of the night.  
  
I thought that this would make our situation easier. I thought that it would help to let him know I feel.  
  
I was wrong.  
  
I want Michael Vaughn now more than ever.  
  
Tomorrow, I'll see him and we'll have to pretend that nothing happened.  
  
But we'll know. We'll both know how the other feels and I wonder how this will change our relationship.  
  
Will it become uncomfortable? Will he ever meet my eyes again?  
  
I sigh and then watch as he gets up and places a few bills on the table.  
  
He's leaving.  
  
He doesn't look my way as he makes his way out and disappears from view.  
  
And something inside of me sinks.  
  
Something inside of me wonders if I just ruined the most honest relationship I have.  
  
I take a deep breath and stand up. I drop a tip onto the table, before picking up my purse and heading outside.  
  
It's cold and I notice how my breath forms a cloud in the air.  
  
I walk to my car and dig around in my purse for my keys. I find them and I'm just about to stick them in the lock, when something catches my eyes.  
  
There's something on my windshield. It's under one of the wipers.  
  
I pick the wiper up and free it, realizing for the first time that it's a cocktail napkin.  
  
I finger the napkin, before slowly unfolding it and reading the message:  
  
~We both know how things have to be right now, Sydney. Could we risk it and secretly see each other? Yeah, I guess we could. But I'm selfish. I want all of you. I don't want stolen moments that come far too infrequently; I don't want pieces of you that can't hope to satisfy me. When we are finally together, I want all of you.  
  
So I will wait and I believe you will too. I will wait and look forward to the day when we can be more...When we are free from the constraints that are stopping us now. And when that day comes, I won't have to ask you to. I already have your answer.~  
  
I smile and place the napkin close to my heart.  
  
Something to look forward to.  
  
It's been a long time since I had something to look forward to.  
  
And so I will wait.  
  
I will wait until I am free to be with him...free to love him.  
  
That day will come, I know it will.  
  
After all, it seems the hands of fates are already hard at work.  
  
*****************************THE END******************************  
  
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it and please let me know what you thought :) ~Steph  
  
Songs were:  
  
"(Everything I Do) I Do It For You" -Bryan Adams  
  
"If You Asked Me To" -Celine Dion 


End file.
